You're a Muggle, Harry!
by MrScurge
Summary: Harry James Potter is a muggle. That's right, a normal muggle with no magic, and no understanding of the magical world. But something keeps popping up, a weird glow around certain people... How can a muggle thought dead, introduce himself to the Wizarding world, and escape the backlash unharmed? And what is this talking to snakes thing? Muggle!Harry, OFC,TWL.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

You're a Muggle, Harry

Hey guys, just a little idea for a story that was floating around y head. Development for this will be slow, as "A Game of Shadows" takes precedence over this story.

Other than that, I hope you find this a little different.

Here's the obligatory disclaimer:

I do not own any of the Harry Potter Universe. It is all J.K. Rowlings. All of it.

0o0oo00o

He twirled, pirouetting upon one foot, perfectly centred upon the hardwood floor that rested beneath his black leather shoes. His charcoal dinner jacket was buttoned closed with unadorned buttons, a white silk handkerchief arranged in his top pocket. A white dress shirt poked through, with a deep purple bowtie. Charcoal coloured pants completed the entire suit. With one hand, he grasped his dancing partner, who twirled, her charcoal and purple dress flowing around her body. Purple straps secured the dress to her shoulders. She daintily sidestepped a clumsy man, who had accidentally stumbled into their dance. The two partners quickly joined back together, the girls' head lightly resting on the boy's padded shoulder. They lightly swayed to the beat of the music, holding each other, savouring the moment they had together. She turned slightly and inhaled his cologne, while he got a good whiff of her cinnamon perfume.

So engrossed in their little routine, they hardly noticed the song change. Soon, other couples joined them on the dance floor, bopping away to the music. Her soft blue eyes gazed into his emerald orbs. He removed his hand from her shoulder and brushed away some silky blonde hair from her face. She wasn't the most beautiful girl in the world, but she had captured his heart. If one was being really critical, her face was a little too rounded, with the hint of some soft cheeks, with freckles lightly dusted under her eyes. Her eyes were maybe a little too elliptical, and the blue eyes were on the verge between blue and ice coloured. Her blonde hair complemented her, but her height worked wonders on the male species. She was just over 5'7, and fit right into her dance partner's 5'10 frame. They were certainly the most energetic couple there, that night, and it was one of their fondest memories together. They had been dating for a few months now, the boy had just turned fifteen a few days ago, almost three months into their relationship. Grace, the girl's name, was just slightly older than her partner, having turned fifteen a month earlier.

Both of them had agreed to dance off the end of the month together, showing off their newly learnt skills, gladly learnt from a ballroom dance school. They had enrolled, both excited at the prospect of learning to dance, separately, and had met in their first class. Grace had been drawn to the attractive, lithe teen in the corner, dressed in obviously second hand clothes, so she had moved over and engaged him in conversation. She had later found out that he had enrolled in the school under a fake name. She was shocked, to say the least. This only added to the mystery, the air of secrecy, that shrouded one James Thomas Evans, known to his friends and family as Harry James Potter.

She had been introduced to Harry's family due to the necessity of practising dance routines together. She got bad vibes from all of the family, who she classed as one of two creatures - one horse, introduced as Mrs Petunia Dursley, and two whales, introduced as Mr Vernon Dursley and Master Dudley Dursley. She hated everything about them. Their house was too neat, too ordered, and too plain. It resembled everyone other multi-levelled dwelling in the street, right down to the heights of the individual blades of grass of the strip out the front of their house, generously called a lawn. Even the roses were all the same height and shape and size. She hated the people in it, especially once she learnt that Harry only had one activity that he was allowed to participate in, that was not supervised by the family, or classed as "Too much fun".

She also discovered that the Dursley's were related to Harry, but we're not his parents (hence the different last name), as he was disowned by his biological family. She was horrified by that, but he seemed to accept it, especially as he had lived with the burden of being unwanted by either family for nearly fourteen years. Grace could also clearly see that he was ritually abused by beatings and verbal abuse, as well as the upkeep of the house was solely maintained by the single Potter of the household. It wasn't out of pity that she had started dating him, nor was it a sympathy vote. She recognised adversity, and the fact that he regularly overcame, it as adding to his "manliness" and desirability. She wanted a man who didn't buckle under pressure and had a quiet strength of character to him. She found it in Harry, he became her rock.

She didn't come without baggage. In a household of three children, and being the middle child she was often overlooked, but not neglected. Often she was just glanced over, not the prettiest of the children, not the smartest of the three and overall, not the nicest of the three daughters. Siblings being siblings often picked on each other, and she'd generally come off worse, with her two sisters joining forces against her. Because of this, her schooling had gone downhill as she slowly lost friends and respect due to her sisters. She was always in their shadows, and for years, it had deteriorated her self-confidence, self-esteem and she slowly sunk into an emotional low. Her parents had forced the dancing upon her, which she had become somewhat excited at, to introduce her to new friends and have some fun. Instead, she was introduced to the two loves of her life - Harry and dancing. She felt truly blessed.

Harry's POV

He sweated and toiled under the hot sun, weeding the garden in the backyard of #4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. It wasn't exactly the hardest job, but it didn't mean it was unpleasant. It was the only clear, hot day that England had experienced all summer, and it was an unusual scorcher of a day. He adjusted his hair, sweeping the sweaty, black bangs out of his eyes.

"Ouch!" he exclaimed, blood escaping from a small pinprick from a rose thorn. An answering cry of outrage was heard from the living room, as Uncle Vernon cursed his favourite football team for letting a goal be scored against them. A singular cloud drifted across the blue expanse above Harry's head, casting the garden and Harry into a welcome shadow, momentarily relieving Harry from the oppressive heat. Vernon poked his abnormally large head out the windows of the house, hollering at Harry to hurry up.

Not for the first time, Harry wished that magic was real. He could just wave his hand, like Merlin in the books he read when he was younger, and the chores would be done. He could gesture and food just appear, waggle his hand at his relatives and they would leave him alone. He wished he could teleport, so he could see Grace and spend some quality time with her, visit all parts of the globe that he had always wanted. He always wished for magic, rather than riches, because for some reason, he always felt that it existed. He could remember a time that he asked his Aunt and Uncle about it, when he first had encountered his "gift". From then on, he had been treated like dirt by his adoptive family, a complete turnaround from the life he had lived before then.

_Flashback_

For Dudley's eleventh birthday, the family was making a trip to the zoo, Vernon, Petunia, Dudley, Dudley's friend Piers Polkiss and Harry. Harry was looking forward to it especially. He had always wanted to go to the zoo, although he could never really tell you why. It was just a feeling, a deeply buried desire, for some reason. They had spent an exhausting day at the zoo, and with a few hours until closing time, they had yet to visit the Reptile House and the Nocturnal Animals. Harry really wanted to see the reptile house especially when presented with the alternative of the Nocturnal animals. As a group, they trooped over to the reptile house. They split, with the adults going one way, Harry going another way, and Dudley and Piers went in the complete opposite direction. It suited Harry well.

He immediately headed toward the snake enclosure, zeroing in upon a Burmese Python, which was having a snooze, draped over a low hanging fake branch. Harry studied the creature for a few minutes before heading to the next enclosure. Inside was a small garden snake. It was evidently either energetic or hungry, as it was racing around the glass cage in every direction. Harry stared at it, fascinated by both creature, and boundless energy it exuded.

*_Stupid. Completely and utterly bonkers. God I hate this place_* exclaimed a voice. Harry spun around and spied Dudley and Piers. He grinned internally at Piers, who he knew hated reptiles with an unparalleled deep-seated hatred. He also saw the young, chipped looking man who trailed behind the two boys. Harry had drawn in a sharp breath, for man positively glowed. It wasn't a direct light as such, it was like an aura hung around the man, hugging close to his form. Harry could also make out a reddish/gold colour that was centred upon the man's torso. Harry couldn't fathom why that was happening.

He quickly ran to Uncle Vernon and related his whole story to the slowly purpling adult. Vernon's eyes had narrowed drastically and he was gulping air like it was going out of fashion. It really didn't suit the larger man well at all. Harry was distracted from all the warning signs of an explosion of mammoth proportions though, as he craned his neck to study the mysterious glowing man. Harry was about to walk over to the man to inquire about the abnormality, but Vernon grabbed him by his neck with his meaty hands and held him in place. Vernon politely nodded his head toward the gentleman, then ushered the rest of his family and Piers out of the house, out of the zoo and into the relative safety of the car.

It was a very quiet car ride home. Vernon and Petunia kept nervously glancing at the raven haired boy, while Dudley and Piers kept whispering surreptitiously at each other. Harry ignored all other occupants of the car, in favour of working out the dilemma presented to him.

_End Flashback_

He hadn't understood the significance then, and still didn't, but it changed the Dursley's image of him. From then on he was ridiculed, mistreated and sometimes completely ignored. His notion of magic was beaten out of him by his obese Uncle, "Preposterous ideals, boy!" who Harry learnt still had muscle underneath all of that fat. Harry had learnt to never antagonise his family, and therefore the Dursley's made sure to remind him of the fact that he was nothing.

It had been that year that he was informed by Petunia that his parents had died in a car crash, and they, the Dursleys, "Are not allowing you to attend any funeral, it means nothing to us, and it should mean nothing to you, you abnormal little boy!" He had never gotten the chance to meet his real parents, nor see a photo of them. He didn't even know their names. That time had passed a long time ago, as he was forced to partake in menial labour in an attempt to make him forget about it all. The familiar ache travelled up and down his chest as he lusted after a pair of parents that cared for him, loved him as the son he was.


	2. Chapter 2: The Next Year

Here is the next chapter. It should awaken even more mysteries for you all. Please enjoy.

0o0o0o00o

Harry awoke abruptly to the distinct cracking sound of a whip upon flesh. He dragged his head from underneath the measly thin pillow that adorned his plain bed. He turned his head precariously to meet the eyes of a grinning Uncle Vernon. The grin completely stumped Harry, as it wasn't just a normal grin. It was more of a cross between a leer and a twisted version of a sneer. In fact, if it wasn't just so out of place on Vernon's overly pudgy face, it may well have been terrifying. Instead, it looked as if he was somewhat constipated, or an antiquated paedophile who never learnt to smile properly and entice little children.

Harry slid out of bed, fluidly, and quickly took a pace backward. This allowed Harry to view the object of Vernon's happiness. It looked like a stick. In fact, unless instinctively knew what it was or had the opportunity to study it closer, they would find no real difference between the piece of wood and a stick. _Wand_ Harry's mind supplied for him. Harry shook his head, momentarily clearing it, before wondering at the word that popped into his head. Vernon shook his meaty hand at Harry, clutching the _wand? stick? _In his other hand. "Do you know what I have here boy?" Vernon practically shouted at Harry, gleefully, with spittle spraying across the room.

"Um, not really Uncle. Is it called a wand?" Harry answered Vernon with a question. Vernon's face purpled in rage in response to Harry's question.

"What do _you_ know of this, boy? You absolute freak! How did you know or find out?" Vernon asked, his hand clutching the grey coloured wood. "How dare you even speak that name in this house, after all that we have done for you, you worthless freak, you go behind out backs!" Vernon shouted. He raised the hand with the stick, and brought it down sharply, catching Harry on the side of the face. It tore a welt into his skin, his left cheek, stinging. Harry flinched away from the blow, shielding the left side of his face with both hands, right into a vicious blow from a meaty fist that crashing into the side of his head. Harry's head exploded with pain, lancing down his spine. He twirled lazily, and crumpled against the floor. Emerald green eyes gazed up into the dark blue of his attacker, searching for a reason for the sudden hate. They found nothing there, except a mad insanity that fuelled the violence.

Quickly making his decision, Harry rose and snapped a kick at Vernon, who copped it on his chin, blinking stupidly. Vernon tripped backward, just enough for Harry to shut and lock the door. Realising that the flimsy wood would not hold against a single blow against it, Harry rushed around, grabbing some personal items, stuffing it into a beaten, dirty red backpack. Once that was completed in thirty seconds, he slung it over his back. He heard the whale's footsteps cede toward the kitchen, and so, Harry eased the door open, and slid into the hallway. Quickly navigating the stairs, he pushed past the kitchen, and into the lounge room. Ignoring the gaudy colours and mix match of furniture, he grabbed another piece of wood that resembled the wand, which rested on a table.

Passing the rest of the room quickly, he pushed the front door open and made his way into the silent English street.

The world paused, drew breath and waited.

00o0o0oo0000o0

Lily Potter was having a great time. She had danced the night away with her husband, James Potter, long-time friends Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, and to her surprise, the greasy, overgrown bat named Severus Snape. She had seen her son, Daniel Potter dancing away with quite a few females, and even the Longbottom boy at one stage! She had so far had the luck to avoid any conversation with Headmaster Dumbledore, as she really didn't feel up to playing mind games with the elder man. Daniel had just finished his 4th year of Hogwarts, was going through a fairly traumatic time from the backlash of the Triwizard Tournament, and Lily had this sneaking suspicion that it may have been preventable by Dumbledore. This said, she still trusted the wizened Headmaster a great deal, she was just… wary… of his intentions. Anyway, she was still having a great time, especially watching her beloved son dancing around the room as if he owned the place, which he practically did, well, with the female attention he was garnering.

With the threat of Voldemort hanging over them again, the Faculty of Hogwarts had thought it a brilliant idea to invite parents and family of current students over to the ancient castle for an "End of School Year" ball and dance. To Dumbledore, it was the perfect opportunity to determine families' affiliations and their allies. To Lily, it was just a great time to be had with her friends, family and a time to just let her hair down. She felt that she worried too much about her son and his antics, but she worried deeply for the next few years, with the hanging gloom caused by Voldemort.

She fixed her attention back to her lovely husband, who gazed upon her with open adoration evident in his hazel eyes. Those hazel eyes that her son shared with his father. Those hazel eyes that looked constantly weary, fixed on both of the men in her life, the orbs that completely captivated her. She broke her gaze from his, and nestled her head into James' comfortable and steady shoulders, continuing with the dance.

She felt a tug on her magic, briefly, but shrugged it off as being a quirk with the Great Hall of Hogwarts. Her auburn hair flicked and swished around her shoulders as she was led, step by step through the sedate waltz, a soft, slow waltz that slowly put her to sleep.

00o0o0o

_1 Year Later_

Harry put one tattered sneaker forward, in front of its twin, positioned snugly on his other foot. He repeated the action with the opposite foot, slowly trudging down the alley. It was one year to the day he had left the Dursley household. He had trekked over to his girlfriend's house, to inform her what had transpired at the sleepy suburb of Little Whinging. She had acted shocked for his benefit, but both knew she wasn't entirely surprised. From there, he had been offered lodging by her family, which he had gratefully accepted for a month. That gave him just enough time to organise himself and find himself a job so that he could semi-support himself.

At the end of the time, he had gone walkabout from their family house, hitching rides on the back of nice motorists (tourists to England, mostly) to anywhere, except for Surrey. He hadn't broken off his relationship with Grace, but they knew that it would be a long time before they ever got in contact with each other again. Oh yes, Harry tried several times to talk her after, through the use of payphones, but nothing compared to the times when he was able to talk to her face-to-face.

Only a few months later had he quit his job in search of a better workplace. To his surprise and utter horror, Grunnings was only too happy give him a job, which he quickly declined, on the simple basis that Vernon had worked for them. In his mind, no company that Vernon was offered work by would ever be a decent company or workplace. So he had continued to live "on the run", or so to speak. Most nights he had slept in dark, dingy alleyways in cardboard boxes that he had found loitering in the alley, or he had found a comfortable park bench, where he wrapped himself up like a cocoon in his spray-proof jacket.

4 months into his journey, he had found the perfect place to work, with a decent pay, work conditions and even a play to stay close by. It was a Shaolin Kung-Fu Dojo, named Yamamoto Dojo. It was a plain white building that was unadorned, but it beckoned to Harry anyway, well, the "Hiring" sign out the front did. He had entered quietly, the silence shattered by the ringing of a bell situated above the door. Harry had started violently, and even more so when the door banged shut behind him, the ghostly echo piercing through the oppressive air of the place. Facing him was a massive room with a polished hardwood floor, with a few blue and grey yoga mats littered about. In the middle of the room was a massive foam mat, in a deep red colour.

Harry had stared at the mat for a very long time, before being interrupted by the owner. Harry was introduced to the medium height and build Chinese owner, whose name was Chao Chang. He sported a close cropped mop of straight black hair, and deep brown, intelligent eyes. If you scrutinised the man carefully, you would notice his nose looked a little bit squashed, from the time an opponent had broken his nose, and it had never set properly.

"What brings you here, young man?" Chao inquired. "Are you lost, or are you wanting to join up, perhaps?"

Harry had shaken his head, replying "Just here for the job vacancy."

Chao's eyes had lit up, and he appraised Harry a little more closely.

That was 8 months ago and Harry had come a long way from the fairly scrawny boy of fifteen he had been when he first left the Dursley's. Patience had paid off. When he first started, he was a lowly cleaning boy. As the months had progressed, so had his job promotions, until now, where he was practically running the show while Chao was the martial arts instructor. After a week, Harry had joined in with the training, his lithe body and muscles partly developed from the dancing, along with the grace and fluidity of movement bestowed upon him by dancing and genetics had quickly prompted Chao to give Harry some private tutoring in the arts. Harry stood at the brink of being in the advanced class – he had yet to fully master meditation, which was the only of the 3 disciplines offered by the Dojo that Harry had trouble with. Only then would he be able to advance to the next stage of training and classes.

As it were, Chao was astounded by Harry's ability to easily adapt and learn the styles of martial arts. Where it had taken Chao over a period of 3 years to master the Intermediate classes when he had learnt, it had taken Harry a ridiculously small time to do. Chao knew that Harry was considered a martial arts prodigy by technical standards, but the Chinese man never informed Harry, opting to continue pushing the boy to his maximum potential. Finally, on this day, he was ready. Chao was ready to take the next step for Harry, pushing him into the "Big Boy's Class". The test for Harry had just begun.

00o0oo000o0

Harry groaned as he opened his eyes, one hand absentmindedly rubbing his aching forehead, specifically where his bolt shaped scar used to be. Where it used to be, being the key words. The Dursley's had paid a plastic surgeon to "fix" the scar so that it no longer remained when he was little – that was when he was still in their good books. He swung his legs over and out of the wooden cot that he slept in. He meandered over to the bathroom to complete his morning ablutions, still sleepily rubbing his eyes.

Within the hour, he had eaten breakfast, trundled slowly to the Dojo, had a warm up session on the mats and started the planning of the day for training classes. Chao dropped by fifteen minutes later with two cups of steaming coffee. Pushing one into Harry's awaiting hands, he continued on toward the end of the dojo, where he would change into training gear. Harry's schedule had changed dramatically over the last month, as it took him a long time to adjust to the advanced classes. Even so, he was nearly on par with the best of them in terms of ability.

Chao returned to the front desk, where Harry was seated comfortably. The sixteen year old practically oozed self-assurance, a far cry from when Chao first met him.

*_pop*_. Chao turned quickly and Harry slid off his stool into a standing position. The teen made his way around the sturdy wooden desk to join his mentor at peering out through the window pointing toward the street. Under the combined gazes of both males, it shattered loudly, startling them both.

The door was roughly kicked open, the single bell tolling viciously as it rocked back and forth. The intruder walked, no, _waltzed_ into the Dojo majestically and turned and faced the frozen owner and manager. He smiled, though the expression of happiness never reached his eyes. Red eyes. Consumed by an internal fire of hate and rage.

00o0o0o0o0o0o

"Hurry up Sirius, we need to leave now!" a middled aged man shouted at an equally aged man. "Voldemort has just revealed himself to us for a few minutes while he attacks muggles. He won't be there for long if you don't hurry."

"Cool it Moony, we got plenty of time. Sure it is oldie Voldy?" asked the man named Sirius. He stood taller than his counterpart, with long black hair that dangled unkempt down his back, in long flowing rivulets.

Another man, this time, an older, wizened man with a flowing white beard stepped forward and answered the question. "Sirius – ly," he started, eyes a twinkle at the play on words of Sirius' name, "We do have the split second to attack Voldemort. It is important to do so, especially after last year with his resurrection, and this year, with the Ministry of Magic's denial of his return. If we subdue him, we may be able to sway public opinion, and even opinion of Minister Fudge." He turned to the rest of the gathered people that occupied the dark and dank room. His voice thrummed with power as he spoke, "Members of the Order of the Phoenix, I gathered you today to be the force that strikes the first blow of the new war. We strike it for the safety of the public, we strike for the safety of our friends and family. We strike for ourselves. Let it be known that the general public can fight back against this terror that sweeps across the land. Let it be known that Daniel Potter does not need to fight every battle, to protect every innocent. Let it be known that the Order of the Phoenix stands beside him." A battle cry issued forth from the collected members with the conclusion of the speech of the wizened man, who assumed the mantle of leadership.

With a loud crack, all occupants of the room, all Order Members, disappeared.

00o0o0o0o0o

Harry stood transfixed at the piece of wood that was pointed directly between his eyes. _Wand_ his mind supplied. He adopted the face of absolute confusion that was mirrored by his mentor. Mentally, they got ready to fight against this man.

That train of thought was soon halted when more intruders entered the building, all wearing white masks covering their faces, and a black cloak and clothing that wrapped around their bodies, leaving their arms free.

Chao and Harry wasted no time. They both spun and kicked out simultaneously at the masked figures, and had to duck some answering jets of light. They didn't look harmless, so they realised dodging was the answer.

00o0o0o0o

The members of the Order of the Phoenix arrived in the road with another crack, having just appeared out of thin air. They also drew thin, long sticks from their clothing, and began making their way to the Dojo on the corner. Two members were out the front of the group, the wizened man, and a younger man, who looked to be in his teens. He was lanky, without being too tall, with jet black hair framing a delicate face. On his forehead, rested an incision, not unlike that of an O. He sauntered down the road next to the wizened man, seemingly without a care in the world.

The group stopped suddenly, with a collective gasp.

Out from the doors of the Dojo, strode a man, who had in his other hand a battered boy. With one fluid motion, he kicked the legs out beneath the boy, who furiously tried to pry the iron grip off his collar. With that motion completed, the man let go of the boy and pointed his wand at him. A beam of light came from the wand, hitting the boy and locking his muscles into rigidness. Anther wand fell into the man's waiting hand, this one levelled at the wizened man who led the pack of Order Members.

"Leave or the boy dies, Dumbledore" sneered the man. "Leave, taking your _weapon_ back to your little castle, and never look back."

The wizened man, named Dumbledore raised his hand in a placating gesture.

"Avada Kedavra". Green light emitted from the man's wand, striking the boy in the head. "I don't have time for games Albus. Let this be a warning."

Grasping the boy's clothes he disappeared with an almost silent _pop_.


End file.
